Atonement
by Lightningthesky
Summary: She's alone. Maybe it's better that way though. Everyone can start their lives anew in the New World, without burden. Without her. But. . she wants to be selfish, just this one time. She wants to be with her family. She won't stop until she finds them.


_**A/N:**There **are** spoilers for all ffxiii games in this, including Lightning Returns. Any questions just PM me or send an ask on tumblr: theragingthespian_

_**Disclaimer: **I could never hope to own anything of Square Enix's; if I did, Lightning's story would have never ended._

_Any feedback is and will always be appreciated._

_Enjoy :3_

* * *

><p>"It's time."<p>

Souls are floating all around them; each one an individual contributing to an overwhelming spectacle that she's not sure if she'll ever forget. It's fitting, she thinks, how they resemble the crystals that hovered during Cocoon's demise. The cycle is coming full circle, finally, and she's glad-so glad- because really, she's tired.

That's putting it simply.

She's exhausted actually; she's had her fair share of fighting gods and Fal'cie, but none could compare to Bhunivelze. Every swallow a keen reminder of what she's put her body through; each one almost gags her as her palate is filled with the unmistakable, metallic taste of blood.

Even without her extensive military training, she knows that probably signifies an internal injury.

She feels wobbly and uneven, and that's not excluding her mental wellbeing. Something's off. It's the only way she can even begin to grasp what's happening. She's not quite sure right now is the time to even briefly ponder what the hell happened with Lumina. Her focus at the moment is entirely devoted to remaining upright, and retaining any focus is a feat in itself, because it's easy to get distracted with the display in front of them.

The large man gives the pink haired girl a nudge forward, Lightning's muscles tightening on their own accord, and she realizes she has let her mind wander a little too long, because her body isn't adequately prepared for this oncoming attack.

Lightning tenses, watching the girl come forward, calculating the most precise way to stop her advance, and-

The girl smiles.

And that girl isn't just some girl, she's Serah. Her sister, her little sister, that she fought the world for. Serah, who she worked so hard to get back.

Serah, who she had almost cut down.

Lightning's teeth smash together, her jaw snapping closed with the realization that her arm is raised. It's aim is true even without her mentally being invested in the movement, because it's destination is clear; a little further, and it would have been easy, so easy, to wrap her fingers around the hilt of her weapon or let loose the magic that gathers even now in her palms.

Serah's hand slips into hers, and Lightning has to swallow the bile and blood that comes rushing up her esophagus, because staying true to her innocent personality, Serah must have taken her outstretched hand to be one of a gesture to come closer. Not that her sister was preparing to end her life then and there. Apparently it doesn't even cross Serah's mind that she would try to kill her.

Even though she has implied and wholeheartedly meant it before.

Even though she left her as soon as she turned to crystal.

Even though she sent her on a journey that resulted in her death.

Even though she didn't keep her promise to remember her, because Bhunivelze ripped Serah away from her.

She wants to hug Serah and never let her go right now, because it feels like every time she tries to protect her sister, Serah ends up in a worse position than before. Like crystal. Like battles that aren't hers to fight.

Like death.

She lets go of Serah's hand as they rise up and dismisses the idea of hugging her, because she's too dirty to touch Serah, let alone hug her. Too much blood on her hands. She doesn't deserve Serah's, or Hope's, or really anyone's, affections.

Serah doesn't even notice, her face one of pure happiness as she looks down; Lightning follows her gaze and sees Snow beaming up at them. She wants to make some joke that will earn her a disapproving glance from Serah and will make that oaf's smile disappear, but she doesn't. It's taken her a while, but she knows now that he's a good man; he'll take care of Serah, or better yet, they'll take care of each other.

Snow ruffles Hope's hair as they begin to float upwards, causing the teen to give a disgruntled look before breaking out into a smile. He knows his parents are waiting for him, and for that she's ecstatic; he's a good kid who needs to be with his family.

She ignores the white hot pain that races through her heart.

They all deserve something more. More than the agony and fighting that life has brought them. Hopefully the new world will bring them happiness; they'll finally be able to pursue their dreams, supporting each other every step of the way.

A glimpse of the future. Everyone smiling and laughing. Even Serah.

Even her.

She knows her family has more than earned a peaceful life. Has she though? She's killed so many, choosing her life and goals above others. Didn't even blink as she cut down numerous soldiers that were just following orders, as she once had. Valhalla was supposed to be the place of her atonement, and yet again, she failed.

She's starting to see a pattern.

Maybe she can start anew in this undiscovered world. Bhunivelze's last creation, stolen from him by those he tossed aside.

Her skin tingles.

It seems like such a trivial thing; she ignores it at first. It worsens, and soon, her whole body is reacting the same way. Shards of crystal float up into view, separate from the mass of flowing souls. A glance down tells her that her statement from earlier was correct. Her skin flakes away, dissolving into bright crystals that occupy her vision. Nova Chrysalia gone, and it's time they move on to their new home.

Her family surrounds her, and together they look towards a brighter future.

The people of Cocoon, Pulse, and Nova Chrysalia shimmer and vanish into the light.

* * *

><p>Millions of souls flow into the new world, even those of loved ones that were once lost from the Purge. They are a mass of moving light, bringing life to the desolate planet that Bhunivelze spent so long planning. There is no separation of the souls; each one touch another, each one sharing their life.<p>

Lightning is one of many.

She is the mother who lost her son in the Purge.

She is the man whose wife was claimed by sickness.

She is the soldier that was cut down before given a chance.

She is a tool. A puppet. A slave.

Who is she again?

She's losing herself, drowning in this sea of memories. Maybe it's for the better though. She can forget her failures and just remember someone else's life instead. She was prepared to throw her life away in the chaos anyway; she doesn't know why they didn't just leave her there. So many lives are before her, and she's altered millions of them.

None, she thinks, are for the better.

But then, she feels warmth pressing against her sides.

An image of a pink haired girl smiling comes to mind,-

"_Just promise you'll remember me."_

-tilting her head towards a grinning man that towers over her.

A shaggy, silver haired boy-

"_I'll protect you too Light." He grips the knife tightly._

-nodding with such determination as he took the lead.

A man who had been through so much-

_He grins, spinning his pistols on his fingers as he walks past them, "Watch and learn, kids."_

-for his son.

A woman with dark hair that would-

_She raises an eyebrow, "Gran. It's _Gran _Pulse."_

-tear down the sky for another.

And she knows.

She is Lightning. She is the soldier. The Champion of Etro. The Savior.

Something shifts inside her; flashes of jagged reds fill her mind, and she wonders if pain is tangible in this form.

She realizes instantly, that yes, she _can _feel pain while they plummet to the ground. Souls scatter towards the earth, spiraling off in different directions. She doesn't realize she's not part of the millions of beautiful souls until wind is lashing at her clothes and hair, whipping it into her face. She can't catch her breath, whether that's from the pain that is demanding her attention or free falling, she's not sure.

She collides with the ground before she can ponder the question further, tearing through the soil. She rolls for a few feet before coming to a halt. She wishes she could admire the bright, blue sky above her, but she can't think through the pain.

She doesn't even know where it's coming from.

She curls in on herself and writhes in pain. When once the electricity was at her beckon, transporting her to wherever she desired, now it is her downfall and rips her in two. The magic that flowed through her veins is being burned from her system. She screams, not caring if anyone hears her, hoping someone hears her, because maker, this is the worst agony she's ever felt.

She thought she was supposed to feel whole when she merged with Lumina, but she doesn't give a damn about that thought, because she doesn't even know who she is anymore through the pain.

Her chest is on fire, spreading throughout her body and squeezing the air from her lungs. Her body is turning on her, convulsing and flapping wildly about as her gasps fill the air.

The last thing she registers is blood in her mouth.

* * *

><p>She comes to, body snapping upright automatically. A hand comes to rest against her forehead as her body calls into question it's state. Adrenaline had concealed her injuries, but now her mind is clearer, besides the insistent ringing that echoes through her mind. Time may not have moved in Nova Chrysalia , but her body can still depict the challenges she went through. Her body is overworked, and the gashes and bruises that litter her body sap away at what little energy she has left. She's used to being transported to the Ark, her wounds being healed, because Bhunivelze needed a Savior that was able to accomplish all he needed, not drag herself around after a difficult battle. She's gone soft. Even when she had injuries near the beginning of the day, a well placed cura would take care of everything.<p>

She focuses and then waves her hand across a particular lesion on her leg.

Nothing happens, and she's left feeling hollow.

Her abilities, magical to be specific, has defined her for years now. Her trials as a L'Cie, battles in Valhalla, and position of Savior were all accomplished with magic.

Who is she without it?

A soldier who would attack her own sister?

The thought of Serah has her wild; she struggles to her feet, head snapping around, "Serah!"

She sees no one in the field of grass, and her heart drops. Where is Serah? And the others? Why aren't they with her?

"Bhunivelze."

Her mind grasps onto the only idea it can supply as adrenaline pumps through her veins. He must have known she would betray him, must have had a failsafe. That's why she no longer controls magic either. He did something to Serah. And Hope. And the others. She is such a fool to think she can just kill a god and be done with it.

"No no no no. . "

Her knees hit the ground as her body sags, gripping fists full of hair within her hands. No, she thinks, she saw his body; they killed him, and Caius is watching over the chaos. There must be another reason. There is another reason; she just needs to calm down, so she can think.

She tenses at the sound of rumbling.

Motion at the corner of her vision has her standing and shifting into a defensive stance. Her hand reaches over her shoulder, only to grasp air. Frantic hands pat around her back, breath coming out in short bursts. Her weapon. Her weapon isn't there. She's left herself vulnerable.

Her hands drop uselessly to the side, because after everything she's went through, she knows a weapon is top priority. The tips of her fingers graze metal as they dangle by her side, and instinct guides her palm to the cool, steel grooves of a hilt, pulling and rotating her wrist.

She waits for the familiar series of clicks and a slight whirling noise.

All she gets is a grinding that sets her on edge.

She holds up the weapon, expecting the sun to catch off the edges of the weapon and gleam brightly back at her. It doesn't. Rust has traveled along the blade, and instead of being in its sword form, it's stuck in a position somewhere in between. The mechanisms that would allow it to transform are broken, preventing it to complete the shift. A rusty, crooked blade is all that has become of her weapon.

The Blazefire Saber was tangible proof of her promise to Serah.

She had dropped out of school and changed her name, herself really, when she decided to join the military. Serah had been furious, throwing anything she could get her hands on; now that she looks back on it, she's glad Serah's never been physically strong, because she's sure Serah would have thrown the oven if she could've.

There was no placating Serah; that is a characteristic they both share.

For weeks they didn't talk, barely seeing each other. Lightning did nothing to improve it, leaving early just to avoid the awkward silence that would descend over their shabby apartment, and later, she would drag herself home, only to lie in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours before setting off again.

She had been frustrated, to say the least. Frustrated at Serah, at herself, at the situation.

She devoted all her energy to training, trying to get her superiors attention, because more attention meant more responsibilities and more responsibilities meant more money. She wanted them to be financially stable, and then, she could have worked on their relationship.

But soon, the frustration ran out, and she was left feeling tired. And empty.

She had enough; she sat Serah down, and they talked, probably the longest they've ever talked before. They both put out their concerns and tried to compromise. And finally,-

"_Promise you'll be careful."_

"_I will."_

_Serah sighs, running her hand through her hair, and Lightning knows that her sign of frustration, "Just. . do your best, okay?"_

_She would. She wouldn't stop, not until Serah could have a good life, free of worries. She would do everything in her power._

"_I promise."_

- they were okay.

Now that promise rests in her hands; its gears rusted and cracked. She runs her hand lightly over the blade, before forcing the blade back into place and holstering it. No use waving around a broken weapon, projecting its uselessness.

There's nowhere to hide, and the rumbling's getting louder.

She decides to lay low, hoping that the hill of grass will somewhat hide her. She knows it's not; she's got pink hair, and that doesn't exactly blend in with the green grass. She shuffles up the slight hill, eyes settling on a dirt path, and then returning it back to where the rumbling is coming from. A figure appears in the distance, gradually coming closer until she can identify it.

"A car?"

And not the kind she's used to seeing. This car doesn't hover across the ground; no, all four tires touch the ground and kick up dirt behind them. She's not used to the noise that seems to be coming from the vehicle, and it only gets louder as it closes the distance between them. It's terrible, but she resists the impulse to clamp her hands over her ears.

It speeds toward her, and she ducks lower preparing for the inevitable moment when they see her and-

It passes by.

Lightning sighs in relief, her head falling forward onto the ground. The grass brushes against her face, moving slightly with each breath she releases. For a moment she just lays there, fingers digging into the soil, before she pushes herself up, brushing dirt off her knees. She follows the car until it escapes her sight, disappearing in an instant, and the only thing reason she knows she saw anything was the cloud of dirt the car created as it drove past.

She walks down the slope, brushing past the bright flowers that line the edges of the dirt path. She pauses, "Tch." There's no clear way she should go, but at least it's only two choices. She could go from where the car came, or she could follow the car. Following the car at least promises the presence of others, the other way could be a wasteland. She needs to find the others, and people could know where they are; her best chances are to find other people.

And so, she starts walking.

* * *

><p>She struggles to continue in a straight path.<p>

She's been walking for hours. Her hair is plastered against her face, and sweat drops down her back. She's fairly sure she's dehydrated, verging on the edge of passing out if her blurring vision is any indication. She will not allow herself to stop, because she knows if she does, there's a good chance she won't have the strength to get up again. She places a fist over her chest, hoping to alleviate the pressure that is settled there, but she still has trouble getting a deep breath.

Knowing her luck, she's made the wrong choice, because she hasn't seen a glimpse of anyone yet. The sun's starting to set, and some animals are deciding to let themselves be known, because there's a constant presence of chirping.

A curse slips from her mouth as the land starts to tilt upwards again, and now she values the lack of nature on Cocoon, because at least everything was flat. If she can make it up this hill, maybe a break wouldn't be so bad. She could catch her breath for a minute or two and get going again afterwards. She probably could cover more ground after a quick rest. But first, she's getting up this damn hill, even if she has to crawl.

She doesn't have to resort to crawling, but she drops to her knees as soon as the land starts to round out.

It's not because of fatigue.

Houses.

Now she's sure she can't breathe, because there are so. many. houses.

Side by side and separated only by square patches of grass.

There are people milling about; people who know information. Maybe know her family.

She can find Serah.


End file.
